Chapter 23
Gracie sat cross-legged on the soft rug of the nursery, a small wooden horse in her hand, while Rose and Eden tumbled around her with laughter. It had been one week since their return to castle McMillan.
“Why is Faither nae here to play with us?” Rose asked, pouting and tugging at her Gracie's sleeve.
Eden chimed in, “Aye, he always goes ridin’ and never stops long enough!”
Gracie’s heart clenched at the sound of their voices, and she pulled them close, smoothing their hair with gentle hands.
“Me sweet bairns,” she said softly, “Yer faither is very busy with his duties at the castle just now, but he will come play soon, I promise. For now, let us play together, shall we? I would love nothin’ more than to spend this time with ye.”
The twins cheered, clapping their hands, and Rose picked up the toy horse while Eden grabbed a set of wooden blocks. Gracie followed their lead, laughing as she built a small castle, her attention caught by the sparkle in their eager eyes.
As they played, Gracie’s mind wandered, and a twinge of unease settled in her chest. She realized how little she had seen of Jaxon since their return from Glenmoor, how rare the moments were when he joined them in the nursery.
He had not come to bed before she fell asleep these past nights, and though she understood why, it made her heart ache.
Jaxon was consumed with the search for Edmund, riding out for hours or even a full day, leaving the twins and her waiting in the quiet of the castle.
Gracie glanced at Rose, who was stacking blocks carefully, and Eden, who was balancing the horse atop the makeshift tower, and she felt a surge of protectiveness.
She wanted to shield them from disappointment, to be the warm presence that steadied their little hearts while their faither’s duties took him away.
Yet she could not help but think how Barnaby’s words had fanned Jaxon’s anger toward Edmund, how the betrayal of a brother weighed heavily on him.
“Can ye read us a story?” Eden tugged at Gracie’s sleeve, eyes wide and pleading.
Gracie smiled and lifted the storybook from the shelf, settling herself on the edge of the little bed with Rose on one side and Eden on the other.
She read slowly, her voice soft and melodic, weaving through the pages until the twins’ eyes grew heavy and they fell asleep, heads resting against her shoulders.
She gently laid the book aside and brushed a stray curl from Eden’s cheek.
Gracie sighed, the quiet of the nursery settling around her, yet her thoughts remained restless.
Tonight, she would speak to Jaxon. The twins had gone too long without their faither’s attention, and she could no longer ignore her own loneliness.
The warmth of the room contrasted sharply with the chill of worry that had taken hold in her chest.
After a bit, she quietly slipped from the nursery, careful not to disturb the sleeping children, and made her way through the corridor to Jaxon’s study. The door was ajar, and she saw him hunched over the large table, quill in hand, his eyes tracing over a map spread before him.
“Jaxon?” she asked softly, not wishing to startle him.
He looked up, brow furrowed, and gave a curt nod. “Gracie,” he said, voice low but steady.
“What are ye doing?” she asked, stepping closer, folding her arms.
“I’m markin’ on the map the areas we’ve searched for Edmund,” he replied, tapping a point with the quill. “He’s out there causin’ trouble, and we must find him.”
Gracie’s expression hardened. “I understand yer need to find yer brother, Edmund, but ye’ve been neglectin’ yer family duties. The twins need ye, and so do I. Ye cannae simply vanish for days and leave us to wait for ye to return.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened, his scowl deepening. “I am the Laird, Gracie. Me duties come first. Edmund is a threat to the clan, and I must act.”
Gracie’s hands clenched at her sides. “Ye can spare an hour a day to play with the bairns. Just one hour, Jaxon. They will remember their faither more than any search or map markin’. Ye cannae give them nothin’.”
“I daenae have an hour to spare,” he said. “Every hour away from the search could let him slip through our fingers. Do ye think the clan’s safety rests on idle play?”
Her cheeks flushed with indignation, her voice trembling. “And what about me? I wait in the bedchamber, night after night, expectin’ me husband to join me. Ye come in late, groggy and distant, and leave me alone to wonder if ye’ll ever see me before the dawn.”
Jaxon groaned, rubbing his temple. “Gracie, I…”
“Nay. Ye daenae understand. I am as much a part of this family as the twins. I need ye here, fully, nae only for the sake of the clan but for us.” Her voice rose with each word, echoing off the stone walls of the study.
“I am doing what I must. Do ye think I enjoy leavin’ ye and the bairns? I do it for all our sakes.” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, frustration written on every line of his face.
Gracie shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “Ye cannae put everything before those ye love, Jaxon. Ye cannae tell me that duty alone matters.”
Their voices reverberated through the study, tension thick as smoke. Jaxon opened his mouth to respond, but Gracie spun on her heel and stormed toward the door.
“I’ve had enough of yer excuses,” she said, her voice cracking with sadness. “I will nae be ignored.”
She flung the door open and stormed out.
Gracie walked through the castle corridors, her slippers scuffing the flagstones, hands clenched at her sides.
She was determined to find April and let off all her frustrations, to speak freely to someone who would listen without judgment.
Yet, as she rounded the corner toward the entrance hall, the voices and footsteps froze her in place.
There, through the great doors, stood Edmund, finally returned to the castle.
He looked around arrogantly and sneered, “And who might ye be, lass? I daenae ken ye so why do ye look at me so?”
Gracie’s irritation flared like wildfire.
How dare he stand there, bold as brass, and fail to recognize the girl he left at the altar?
“I am Lady Gracie,” she snapped, “the woman ye left behind, the one ye dishonored.”
Edmund raised a brow, smirking, as if her words amused him. “And what business have ye in this hall?”
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, heart pounding. She opened her mouth to retort, but before the words could fly, a deep, commanding voice echoed behind her.
“Gracie is me wife, Edmund. Ye would do well to treat her with respect.”
Jaxon stepped into view, cloak thrown back, eyes like steel. Edmund blinked, astonished, stepping back a pace. “Wife? But… when did ye…?”
Jaxon’s jaw tightened. “Ye dishonored our clan by leavin’ this woman at the altar on yer weddin’ day. I remedied that, keepin’ the peace between her clan, the McDougals, and ours. She is me wife, and she deserves every ounce of respect from ye.”
Edmund laughed lightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “Ah, I am glad ye did. For ye are a far better fit than I would be. Look at her, a rose in bloom, truly. Congratulations are in order, truly.”
Gracie’s stomach turned as Edmund’s words rolled over her like honeyed poison. She knew the tone well, the sweetness hiding nothing but charm meant to disarm and manipulate. Every word dripped with self-interest, and it was plain to see he sought no reconciliation.
“Indeed,” Edmund continued, turning to Jaxon now, bowing slightly with mock humility.
“Ye have done well keepin’ the McMillans and McDougals from quarrel.
A laird of such wisdom deserves admiration.
I hope ye’ll forgive me absence; ’tis clear the clan thrives under yer care.
If ye shall have any funds to spare since ye prosper so.
Yer brother would be grateful for his share. ”
Gracie could feel her fists twitching at her sides, fury mingling with disgust. It was obvious now why he had returned. His fine clothes and confident step masked nothing; he had run out of money, and this performance was merely a calculated return to the castle’s coffers.
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed, piercing Edmund like a blade. “Ye have nay further access to the family funds,” he said, voice low and cutting. “All wealth is under me hand now. The clan’s gold is nae for squanderers and never-do-wells.”
Edmund’s expression faltered for the first time, charm slipping like sand through his fingers. “I… I only meant to…”
“Aye, I ken what ye meant,” Jaxon interrupted sharply. “But the clan cannae endure yer folly.”
Gracie felt a mixture of relief and satisfaction as she watched Jaxon assert control.
Her husband had always carried the weight of the clan on his shoulders, but seeing him handle Edmund with such precision stirred a deep admiration in her chest. This was the man who had stood by her, who had protected her honor, and who now kept his family’s legacy intact.
Edmund’s eyes flicked to Gracie, still attempting his silver-tongued charm. “Ye are lucky, lass, to be wed to such a strong Laird,” he said, voice syrupy.
Gracie’s lips pressed together. She didn’t speak, choosing instead to let her gaze harden, showing him her disdain without words.
Jaxon placed a steady hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “Daenae let him rile ye,” he murmured, voice warm. “He is nothin’ more than a spent shadow, and we have nay need to waste breath on him.”
Gracie nodded, letting herself relax slightly. She had survived Edmund’s honeyed words and Jaxon’s anger had protected her honor. For the first time since he appeared, she felt the tide of control shift, and the castle seemed smaller with Edmund’s presence reduced to irrelevance.
The old hall echoed with tension, but Gracie felt fortified, standing beside Jaxon.
She realized then that the man she had married was not only strong in body but wise in judgment, capable of protecting her and their clan from folly.
Edmund’s charm could do no more than ripple across the surface; beneath it, Jaxon’s steady hand commanded respect and secured her trust.
Gracie watched Edmund sneer, his eyes glinting with mischief and scorn. He began muttering under his breath, throwing subtle insults at Jaxon and her, each word dripping with arrogance.
“Aye, it seems the Laird is as heavy-handed as ever,” Edmund sneered. “And this… this lass,” he added, gesturing toward Gracie with a mocking bow, “is now somehow the jewel of the clan?”
Gracie’s hands curled at her sides. She could feel her cheeks flush, not with anger alone, but with the need to defend herself. She stepped slightly forward, but Jaxon’s calm, cold voice stopped her.
“Edmund, I’ve had enough of yer games,” he said, each word measured and full of authority.
Edmund’s smirk faltered. “Oh? And what would ye have me do, brother? Ye make much ado over nothin’. Aye, perhaps I returned late, perhaps I spent coin freely, but 'tis hardly the end of the world!”
Jaxon’s eyes narrowed, like steel cutting glass.
“No, not the end of the world? Ye are always creatin’ trouble for the clan.
Yer recklessness has led to sufferin’, near irreparable harm to our people.
The village of Glenmoor trusted ye to send a message to me of their sufferin’, and ye did nay such thing.
I will nay stand idly by while ye squander the name and safety of the McMillans. ”
Edmund waved his hands as if dismissing Jaxon’s words. “Overreactin’, as always. Ye take yerself far too seriously, brother. ’Tis nae as dire as ye claim. Everyone survived, did they nae?”
Jaxon’s voice rose, controlled but sharp.
“Aye, everyone survived because I acted in spite of ye, nae because of ye. Ye risk our villages, our stores, our people, and yet ye stand there pretendin’ none of it matters.
Ye shall answer for yer misdeeds. Connor, put Edmund in his chambers with a guard outside.
He is nae to be allowed out of sight of the guard until I decide on his punishment. ”
Edmund tried a sly grin. “Ye’ll nae lock me away for words alone. I am yer brother, Laird, and ye cannot hold me prisoner. What purpose serves this fury?”
Connor stepped forward, voice steady, eyes hard. “Edmund, ye will come with me now to yer chambers. Ye are nae to leave until the Laird decides otherwise.”
Edmund spun to face Jaxon, desperation and anger mingling in his expression. “Ye cannae do this! I am family! Ye would shame yerself holdin’ kin captive like some low-born criminal?!”
Jaxon ignored the protests, his jaw set. “Family?” he asked, voice cold. “Family does nae abandon duties, family does nae gamble with lives, and family does nae leave villages in ruin while makin’ merry elsewhere. Ye have failed in every measure. Yer pleas mean nothin’ to me.”
Gracie stepped forward, her voice firm, though she kept a cautious distance.
“Edmund,” she said, “yer words hold nay charm here. The time for honeyed promises is past. Ye have left trails of harm, and Jaxon will see to it that ye answer.”
Edmund turned on her, his sneer widening, “And what would ye have me do, woman? Speak? Beg forgiveness? Ye ken naught of the burden of being me, nor the freedom of me choices.”
Gracie’s eyes flared, but Jaxon laid a hand lightly on her shoulder, grounding her.
“Connor,” Jaxon said, voice cutting through Edmund’s bluster, “lead him to his quarters. He shall stay there under watch until I determine the proper course.”
Edmund struggled, lashing out at Connor and the guards. “Ye daft fools! I am yer blood! I will nae be caged like some animal!”
Connor’s grip was firm and unwavering. “Yer blood or nae, ye follow me or ye feel the weight of the clan’s authority.”
Jaxon stepped forward, voice calm but icy. “Enough, Edmund. Yer excuses mean nothin’. Yer actions have consequences, and I will see them through. Yer freedom is nae a right, it is a privilege ye have forfeited through foolishness.”
Edmund shot daggers at Jaxon’s back as he was escorted, voice raised, “Ye are cruel, Jaxon! Ye’ll rue this day! I am still the son of our faither, and ye have nay right!”
Jaxon’s gaze did not falter. “Rights earned through recklessness hold nay value here. Learn that, or ye will see nay mercy.”
Gracie watched, a mix of relief and lingering apprehension twisting in her chest. She could see the truth of Jaxon’s judgment, the man she loved was fair, resolute, and utterly unyielding when it came to the safety of the clan.
Edmund’s protests faded down the corridor, leaving only the echo of his resentment.